I am worthy of being treasured, cherished, and adored.

Somebody learns to pronounce your name the way your family says it, having heard it once, and never gets it wrong again.

Adoration announces itself. Being treasured does not. It shows up as being remembered accurately — the allergy, the difficult anniversary, the fact that you cannot bear being phoned before ten.

Worth knowing which of them you are actually waiting for, because it is easy to hold out for the announced version while the quieter one has been happening for years in the way somebody says your name.